


The Sweater

by Hannigrammatic



Series: Screw it! [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff, M/M, Sassy Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 18:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5137541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannigrammatic/pseuds/Hannigrammatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will wakes up feeling sassy and Hannibal is happy to deal with it.</p><p>Featuring: Hannibal's red sweater.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweater

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: The title bothered me! Formerly known as Breakfast In Bed.
> 
> Another fluffy thing to keep the writing going as I take a lil break from the dark stuff~ As always, all mistakes are mine!
> 
> Dedicated to [Mummyholmesisupset](http://mummyholmesisupset.tumblr.com/) on tumblr~

The early hours of dawn paint the room in warm hues, though it’s a facade Will resents having to face. He can almost feel the chilly winter air biting at his skin already, and dreads having to leave the comfy bed engulfing him. Rolling further into the heavy blankets, he runs a tired hand over his face, through his sleep-mussed hair, and sighs. He knows even before he reaches to the other side of the massive bed that Hannibal is already up to start the day, but Will spots his suit hanging on the closet door and smiles.

A curious sniff of the air confirms that the older man has started breakfast, and, more importantly, that he has made coffee. But tempting as that is, the blankets are still far too soft and warm and for a moment Will imagines he is cuddled up to a giant wolf with endless amounts of fluff to hide in and curl around. 

Of course that is mildly ruined by his alarm blaring moments later, and he huffs another sigh before untangling himself from his wolf-cloud to step onto the floor that feels like fucking ice. 

Will hisses and smacks the alarm into quietness before zombie-shuffling into his slippers, which are dutifully set on the floor on his side of the bed every night by Hannibal, who often clucks his tongue and reminds him softly to stop leaving them in the doorway or the kitchen or even in the basement. He casts a glance about himself, spots his robe astride his own closet door, and smirks.

“Are you up, Will?” Hannibal’s voice calls from the kitchen softly.

Not answering, the scruffy Will Graham strides over to Hannibal’s closet instead of his own and rummages until he finds his favorite sweater. He adores it for the times he gets to steal it while Hannibal is at work, and also for the way it looks on Will’s normally sharp-dressed boyfriend. It is maroon, soft as fuck, with a wide v-neck that is snug around Hannibal’s thicker body. On Will, however, it hangs enough to approach looking ridiculous, past his hips, barely clinging to his less broad shoulders. The sleeves are just long enough to hang nearly off his hands, and, with a twitch of his fingers, he pushes one side of the collar down around his shoulder and lets it hang there suggestively.

“Will?” the deep, accented voice is getting closer.

Despite the cold, Will skips putting pants on, sneaks a look at his sleep-messy hair and slightly red cheeks to match the large sweater adorning him, and strides out of the bedroom. His slippers pad softly on the hardwood floor, and he passes into the kitchen just as Hannibal is on his way to leave it. They both stop a foot away from each other, and Will’s smirk widens. He can see what Hannibal does, after all, and while he'd never thought much in the past about his appearance, he becomes drunk frequently on how easy it is to rile his boyfriend up nowadays.

Hannibal’s expression borders on amused, frustrated, and also mildly disappointed as he comes to a stop to look Will up and down slowly. One eyebrow inches slowly upwards, and his full lips resolutely tug into a frown. For his part, Will plays coy, hides his smirk respectfully behind a hand, and shuffles in place; he can’t help it, there is never a point when he doesn’t want to play this game with Hannibal, the lazier (and less deadly) version of their cat-and-mouse routine. Will believes rather strongly that he has to keep Hannibal on his toes.

Or his back. Or against a wall. Vice versa and so on.

“Aren’t you cold?” Hannibal finally says softly.

“Absolutely. What’s for breakfast?” Will smiles brightly.

“Scrambled eggs, as you would say. Put something warmer on, Will. I will set the table.”

“Nah.”

The amused part of Hannibal’s expression narrows into something dangerous, just as his dark eyes do. His lips, though, pull into his own smirk, a few sharp teeth peeking out.

“Don’t make me tell you again.”

“Sorry, what?” Will’s smile is a grin now, and he tosses his hair slightly.

He looks away and plays shy, rolls his shoulders so the sweater slips down a bit more and runs his hands over the fabric at his stomach slightly. He feels his body go taut in expectation and excitement when Hannibal lets out a single growl and makes his move. Will’s back hits the wall roughly seconds later, head narrowly missing being banged smartly along with the momentum, but he can care less. The last residues of sleep leave his body as he is lifted in strong and capable hands, and he wraps his legs around Hannibal’s waist as the powerful man presses fully against him with a prolonged growl. Dangerous, this game of provoking the cat, and Will simply _adores_ doing it again and again and again.

Lips smack and teeth clash and tongues duel wetly, mouths locking together as if breathing requires it instead of quite the opposite. Will heaves in through his nose as he finally relents enough to let Hannibal’s tongue lick into his mouth in victory, lets the squirming muscle explore along his teeth and the roof of his mouth, lets it flatten his own tongue in submission. Hannibal growls low in his throat and both of his hands move from clasping Will’s trim waist to grip onto his hips. The sweater tugs up just slightly to reveal a fit stomach the more they move sensually against each other, and, Hannibal notes with primal pleasure, the lack of anything on underneath it.

“Brat,” Hannibal whispers once their kiss has broken, the both of them needing to breathe quite a bit. “Incorrigible brat. What am I to do with you?”

“You can start by warming me up,” Will answers around a breathy laugh.

There’s a few moments of mutual panting silence as Hannibal pins his sassy boyfriend in place with his body and his eyes, which have darkened and which now pierce into glittering blue ones. Will may not be fond of eye contact, but he doesn’t look away in this moment, in fact he does less and less the longer they are together, and Hannibal murmurs a praise into his boyfriend’s mouth. Then, ignoring the yelp Will is unable to prevent, he tosses the man over his shoulder and brings him back to the bedroom, where he drops the aforementioned brat into the center of the large bed.

Will lands amidst silky soft blankets and he purrs, glad to be back in the blissful comfort and off of the cold floor. He squirms into the fabric as he watches Hannibal quickly and efficiently undress himself, barely refrains from rolling his eyes as the always impeccable man folds each article primly. As if sensing Will’s thoughts, Hannibal looks down at him, fringe of hair dancing into his eyes. Smirk in place as always, as if the man has a secret just behind his delicious lips. Will tosses his head back, splays his body before his boyfriend, making sure to pull the sweater up high until it sits under his chin, and he holds it there with one hand and strokes down his body with his other.

“Look at you,” Hannibal says. “Debauched and squirming where I fucked you last night. You’re insatiable, Will.”

“You love it, Hannibal,” Will purrs.

Hannibal pounces on the bed and stalks up Will’s body with a growl. He stops with his hands on either side of his boyfriend’s head, fingers tangling in dark curls, and presses flush against the smaller man. He lets his weight settle over Will fully for a moment, knowing it is not very comfortable, and also knowing the man adores feeling trapped -but only in this manner and only by him. Trapped and owned and kept in place like a pretty trinket on a shelf, a very well-loved one. Toned legs wrap around Hannibal’s waist again, and Will looks up at him with red cheeks and lips and cloudy eyes.

“What am I to do with you?” Hannibal asks again with a whisper.

Will’s lips are opened for a pert response that turns into a moan as he becomes overwhelmed by the full weight of his bigger lover. He digs his hands into the broad muscles of Hannibal’s back, squeezes his legs around him tighter, moans again as his cock brushes against Hannibal’s own interested one. A light sheen of sweat paints his forehead as his lips are devoured in a sudden movement, and he exhales through his nose. The sensation of the man atop him and of his hairy and muscular body grinding languidly against him couples with the insanely soft blankets beneath his body, and it’s enough to have Will grinding up with more intensity as the seconds dip past.

“Oh, Will,” Hannibal whispers.

His lips brush Will’s brow, nose, the corner of Will’s own kiss-swollen lips, and trail further down his jaw and neck. He finally lifts his weight just a bit, conscious of his boyfriend’s possible discomfort at the prolonged pressure. He toys with the idea of teasing Will into a mess of limbs and moans and helplessness, remembers the way his sassy lover looked coming out of the bedroom wearing nothing but the oversized red sweater they both adored for reasons involving the other. He debates punishing Will’s sarcasm and near-snottiness, and instead he opts to slowly sink into Will’s pliant asshole, having stroked himself to hardness and having been motivated by the writhing thing beneath him. Will is still opened from last night with the toys and the relentless fucking Hannibal had dealt him after coming home to him not only still in bed, but in dirty come-stained sheets. At least the buttplug had still been snug inside of him as he’d commanded.

Will Graham agrees that he is definitely a brat, and he knows they both love it. He feels his heart swell as well as his cock as he is filled by the older man in a steady thrust. He can sense the warmness behind Hannibal’s kisses and feather-light touches, and he relaxes his own grip with a contented sigh as his attentive boyfriend makes love to him in the morning light. He has half a moment to wonder about breakfast, but knows Hannibal would not leave anything to burn. His wandering thoughts are snared by full lips capturing his own again in a conquering kiss, fingers stroking his neck and into his hair to card through the soft curls. Their lower bodies join in lazy and sticky thrusts, and their voices mingle with each other in panting moans.

“Harder,” Will demands.

He can feel himself going slowly insane at the overstimulation. It’s early enough that his body is more sensitive than it usually is. Being back in bed has dulled his senses even more, and he finds himself ready to drift off if not for the building pressure in his balls and his stomach as he is fucked so sweetly into the blankets. He becomes aware of the fact that Hannibal isn’t even thrusting so much as just rolling his hips, cock never leaving Will’s snug hole completely, barely even half. The bulbous head teases along his prostate just enough to jolt his body once in awhile. It's not enough to make him come, though, not even nearly.

“Please,” Will amends quickly.

He’s answered with the first real thrust since Hannibal has entered him. It’s firm but not rough. Will squirms and bucks his hips for more and finally meets hooded and darkened eyes. He expects to see amusement and instead he sees affection and pride and perhaps a bit of bewilderment. Will’s movements slow as he looks up adoringly at his boyfriend, pleadingly as well. Their breathing is still ragged, Will’s more so as the stimulants drive him into near abandon, light touches where they are usually rough confusing his mind and body and pleasing it no less.

“Anything for you, Will,” Hannibal finally answers.

The bed is large and sturdy and it doesn’t move as Hannibal fucks into him hard now, setting a brutal pace that shoves Will further up the bed over time. The sweater is half off now, Will managing to free one arm and giving up quickly, and it tangles between them as he pulls Hannibal close by the neck to cling to him. Growling, Hannibal tries to hold Will in place but the pace is too fast and forceful, sweat beading both of their brows now and making the rest of their bodies slick. Hannibal sinks his teeth into Will’s shoulder on a particularly loud thrust, cock sinking with a squelch into Will’s hole.

The pain-pleasure draws Will into orgasm and he lets out his own growl as he spurts between them. Growls louder before it bites off into a keen as Hannibal keeps going. It becomes a sob as those teeth sink further and break the skin just slightly. When Hannibal comes nestled deep inside of him, Will sobs again, thankfully, body thrumming and sweaty and sticky with his spend. His expression is once again adoring when Hannibal pulls out and leans over him and looks into bright blue eyes, takes in the scruffy face and sex-mussed hair. He steals one last kiss before moving off of Will, who whines immediately at the loss of warmth and closeness.

“Hush,” Hannibal coos. “It’s time to get up and I’ve made breakfast. Which will already be cold.”

“And coffee,” Will murmurs.

“And coffee, yes.”

Will purrs and pulls the sweater back on completely, sitting up in the bed and biting his lip as he feels Hannibal’s come oozing out of him into the blankets below him. It’s obscene and he knows they both love it, even if Hannibal will grumble and complain and do laundry probably immediately after breakfast.

“You make for quite the good heater,” Will quips suddenly with a smile. “Thanks.”

Hannibal is dressed again, though less primly. He needs to shower, and more importantly Will does as well -he wants to be sure Will gets sufficient nourishment first, however. He looks up at Will’s words in surprise and then smiles at the ones unsaid. Will is never very eloquent vocally, even less so when he’s just been fucked, but the loving tone in his voice is always easy to decipher. Hannibal moves closer and bestows a kiss onto Will’s brow.

“Clean up and put on some pants. Then we shall eat,” he says in passing as he heads back into the hallway.

Will doesn’t answer although he does listen, eventually. Cleaned, wearing pants and the oversized sweater still, he joins his lover in the kitchen for breakfast finally with a gleam in his eyes and a spring in his step.

Fini


End file.
